Witch's Cauldron
by witchofnovember
Summary: DonnaTobyJosh - "Friendships and family would be forged in this new war. It was his job to make sure that the old ones didn’t falter in the twilight of their years."


Author's Note: Ficlet challenge – two characters and a line.

He was sitting on a stool in the Hawk and Dove. His head propped in his hand, the hand holding a cigar, the cigar burning, the smoke curling up until it met the drone of the conversation rolling somewhere up in the dark ceiling. He was concentrating on the scotch in front of him, dreaming up pictures in the waves of alcohol that twisted around the ice as he rolled the glass on the wrinkled napkin.

Donna studied him for a moment, watching him from the doorway. He had always stood apart from all of them – quiet, reserved, an idealist tempered by a realism that came from years of failure followed by years of struggle. She had always admired his solidness, that steady fortitude that played the perfect foil to Josh's fire and ego. In truth, she had been in awe of him for a long time, until she realized he was a man, like all the others, capable of fear and loneliness and grief.

Walking over to him, she sat on the stool by his side and waved to the bartender. She was a regular, as they all were, and soon a beer sat on the bar in front of her. Cold, frosty, bitter. The irony wasn't lost on her. She had spent much of the last year struggling against those very words.

Leaning over, she said softly, "Come here often, sailor?"

Toby smiled slightly but didn't look up from his drink, "Not often enough."

Nodding slightly, Donna took a sip of her beer. It was crisp, as first sips often are, and the burning sensation was somewhat comforting as it went down her throat.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, drawing on his cigar and releasing the smoke into the din above their heads.

"Campaign break," she replied, studying the bottles behind the bar. It has always amazed her, the rainbow of colors and sparkling bottles. One day she wanted to sit and have someone teach her their names, have them roll of her tongue like some seductive language. "Everyone else will be here soon."

Toby looked over at her and studied her closely. He had always liked Donna. Her presence was like a breeze of innocence. Or, rather, it had been. In the weeks and months after the Gaza trip, he noticed she carried her body stiffly, the easy grace with which she had once moved was lost somewhere between a dusty road and a desk in the White House. Her eyes were darker, veiled, as if she fought to hide something and, as a result, hid everything. It was painful to see such a loss. But, then again, he had been watching such losses again and again for years.

"How have you been?" he said quietly, turning back to his drink.

"Good," she replied, taking another sip. "Busy, but good. How are the twins?"

"Big... and loud." There was a slight smile at the mention of his children. She was the only one who asked anymore. Of course, she would ask – she had always asked.

They sat quietly for a moment, each sipping their own poison and wandering wherever it is that people go when they sit silently in a noisy bar.

"Toby..."

Turning his head, he looked at her and knew, instantly, what she was going to say.

"Donna, don't..."

"Toby, I can't sit by and watch this anymore." When she looked up, her eyes were wide, the veil lifted for a moment and Toby saw a flash of the woman he once knew.

Sighing heavily, he took another drag on his cigar and exhaled into the top of his scotch glass. The smoke hung above the liquor and the glass resembled a witch's cauldron until he blew on it softly and it disappeared. It was so easy these days, to make things disappear. Taking a sip, he set the glass back down and stared at the top of the bar.

"You are brothers, Toby. Everything we've been through. Everything that happened. You can't forget that. We have to have something to take with us. Something that is ours. You can't walk away from that."

She was staring at him intently, but he wouldn't gaze back. He could never lie to Donna. In truth, he knew of no one who could. Perhaps Josh, but the lie Josh told all these years was his own personal lie and he suffered from it as a result.

"And maintaining sanity just became that much harder," he said softly.

"I'm sorry?"

"That's what I thought when he hit me. In my office that day. With that one act, I thought I would completely lose my grip on what was left of my sanity." He was talking to her, but was watching his own finger trail through the water rings on the top of the bar. "I didn't mean for it to happen that way, Donna. I never meant for it to go that way. I don't know what I thought, or what I was thinking, when I talked to Ricky Rafferty, but I never meant to hurt him."

He felt her soft touch on his arm. It was comforting, but she had always been that way. He remembered the times she had comforted CJ and Josh and Sam. Hell, she had been there for him as well, when times seemed dark. It was amazing the capacity of this woman, who had been through so much, to try and lift others out of their own darkness.

"Tell him, Toby. Give him the chance to apologize and tell him."

Toby snorted, "Apologize? The Mighty Lyman? That's rich."

Leaning down, she caught his eye and said softly, "He will. I know him, Toby. He will."

They sat for a moment, searching for something in each other that would help them heal the rifts that had split this small family and scattered them each to the wind.

A commotion at the door announced the arrival of the Santos/McGarry campaign crew led, of course, by Josh – always the ringmaster. The group took a table off to the side and Donna saw Josh scan the room for her. When he saw her and her companion, his eyebrows lowered and a scowl came across his face. Donna shot him a glance and hoped, this once, their private language was still strong enough to convey the message she so desperately wanted him to hear. Josh watched her for a moment and turned to sit with the rest of the campaign group.

"He will, Toby," she said, standing up and collecting her things. She leaned over and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. Toby could smell her perfume and feel her hair across his face. It wasn't erotic, but loving, and he felt a small spark of hope crawl from the dark place in which it had been residing for the past few months. He hadn't felt that sort of comfort from anyone in a long time.

Toby stood and threw down a few bills on the bar. Pulling on his coat, he followed Donna over to the noisy table and looked over the faces. Each was young and brilliant with the exhilaration that came from the fight. He remembered those days, when he, Sam, CJ, Josh and Donna would gather to celebrate their victories or mourn their defeats. Friendships and family would be forged in this new war. It was his job to make sure that the old ones didn't falter in the twilight of their years.

Turning to Josh, he lifted his hand and placed it on the other man's shoulder. Josh turned and for a few breathless moments, the two stood, nearly face to face, wary and watchful and not yet trusting. Of all the others witness to the event, only Donna knew the magnitude of what was occurring before them and she held her breath in anticipation.

Suddenly, a smile broke out across Josh's face and Toby soon followed suit. No words were spoken, and Toby soon turned to leave, but in that moment of silence, a breach had been healed and a step toward reunion had been taken.

As he stepped out the door, he heard someone run up behind him breathlessly. Turning, he saw Donna standing in the doorway, a broad smile on her face and her eyes sparkling.

"So... maybe now sanity is a little more manageable?"

Smiling slightly, Toby replied, "Maybe."


End file.
